I woke up late this morning: 5:45 AM.

Gathered my laundry bag I had set aside the night before to beat an imagined weekend rush at the washing machines though the complex has six machines and it was Sunday morning. 6:15.

As the clothes washed, then dried, I placed myself in the shower as one does in the morning hours. Eventually I went downstairs to retrieve my clothes, clean the lint out of the catch and exchanged a clean shirt with a warm one. 8:35 I'm out the door.

Ate my breakfast at the outside tables of Millie's with a book, a glass of water, a glass of orange juice and an order of the Devils' Mess. The book of essays got very funny and I noticed the little huff of approval from my throat. A worthy "ha" to the amazing mixture of eggs, cheese, tomatoes, onions, sour cream and guacamole that sat on the plate in front of me. The sun reached my legs under the table as I watched the cars go by, growing in numbers as more customers arrived. I swallowed this all down with the glass of orange juice.

If the last part of the morning was a postcard, the caption would read in unnecessary capitalization: "I Wish You Were Here!!" and that sentiment is absolutely true; I did wish you were here.

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